the door was opened from within by a young adjutant, who turned to announce him as he entered.
“Ah, Rommel,” said Keitel. “I hope you have had time to get the sand out of your boots.”
Rommel ignored the remark, his attention transfixed on only one man at the table, leaning over a map, head down, and an air of ominous silence about him—Adolf Hitler. He waited, until the Führer slowly raised his head, his dark eyes enveloping him with unwavering attention. There was, in that moment, a sense of emptiness deeper and more profound than any Rommel had ever known in his life. There he stood, twice defeated in the deserts of North Africa, and this by a nation that would field little more than 30 divisions throughout the entire war. The shame in Hitler’s dark regard was a palpable thing, and Rommel felt its crushing power, an agony that weighed ever more with each passing second. Several other men stood in the shadows behind the Führer, the harsh overhead light only falling on their gilded uniforms. Rommel knew one man immediately—Eric von Manstein. The others were in civilian clothing, and unknown to him. Then Hitler took his hands off the table, straightening himself, a movement of shadow and coal black ire.
“So you have taken back all of Cyrenaica… Again…” said Hitler. “Yet what good are your hard-earned gains if you immediately lose them?”
Rommel said nothing, knowing he would have to endure this, and most likely find himself removed from his position before this meeting concluded. Is that why Manstein was here, he wondered? Were they sending him in my place? So be it. The medals on my chest eclipse anything that man has ever done, but face it, Herr Rommel, he chided himself. That is all past glory.
Hitler spoke again, just one word. “Explain.”
Rommel swallowed, his pride long gone, his throat still dry with the desert heat he had recently left behind. Then he mustered his inner strength and spoke.
“My Führer, the enemy is now fielding a heavy tank that is completely impervious to any weapon our ground troops possess. As a breakthrough weapon on the attack, it is unstoppable, and it fields a gun that can destroy my best tanks with a single shot. In fact, there were instances where the enemy fire not only penetrated the frontal armor of my Panzer IIIs, but also blew completely through the tank and out the other side. Against such a weapon, offensive operations involving my Panzer divisions are impossible. Almost all the gains delivered in my last offensive against Tobruk were achieved by the infantry.”
“You were inside the perimeter of the Tobruk defenses?”
“We were.”
“And you ordered a retreat?” Hitler’s voice raised in volume, his eyes beginning to smolder.
“I did, and if I had not done so, those troops would still be sitting there—but surrounded by British and Australian troops and simply waiting for the next ship to come in before they were sent off to the prison camps. The enemy heavy armored brigade had already broken through our lines to the south—through the entire front of my 15th Panzer Division. I could not afford to leave my hard fighting ground troops to be cut off in Tobruk. They were already down to their last rounds. Without those men, all that remained in the north were the Italians.”
“My Führer,” said Manstein. “I concur with Herr Rommel on this matter. To leave those troops in a cauldron would have been most unwise. Given the circumstances, his actions were correct, and I would have done the very same thing.”
“Oh? Well I suppose it matters very little now,” said Hitler. “It is obvious we will get nowhere in that filthy desert against the British. Very well, Herr General, we have read your reports concerning these new British tanks. When this matter was first reported to me during your initial offensive, I did not take sufficient notice. Now you have my complete attention, and I will not be as hard on you here as I might. Steiner reported the very same thing in the Middle East—tanks! Huge tanks that could not be stopped. Have we no artillery? Do we not lay minefields and dig hard defensive positions?”
There was a slight quaver in Hitler’s voice now, and Rommel could see, by the tremor in his hand, that he was struggling to contain the inner rage he must be feeling. “We stopped them in the first war when they came, by simply standing our ground! And that was